Meliss VanTil meets VanGogh at Scavenger Hunt

Iím staring at a VanGogh whose name is lost to me for it was born of a
calendar. Actually, I saw this kid looking at it in that store next to
Scavenger Hunt and I came up behind him to check it out. It was a VanGogh
Iíve never had the pleasure to masturbate to. I was leaning over his
shoulder studying it, kind of to study it and kind of to see what heíd say
and he kinda looks at me out the corner of his eye and looks back at the
print and we keep looking and maybe ten seconds hiss away and we say;

K: "Whatís it all squiggley for"
M: "Well he was a nervous kinda guy"
K: "What is he nervous about?"
M: "He probably isnít nervous anymore, heís dead"
K: "No, what WAS he nervous about?"
M: "He was scared that nobody was going to like it"
K: "Öitís alright though"
M: "ALRIGHT, I think itís supercalifragalisticexpialidocious"
K: "WHAT? You canít spell that"
M: "I donít hafta spell it, I just hafta say it"
some more time leaks out while we stare together;
K: "whatís that?" (he points to the blackness in the grass that is the
shadow)
M: "What? Ö That? (I point to the blackness in the grass that is the shadow)
K: "Yeah, what is it?"
M: "Itís the shadow"
K: "It is?? ÖÖ I like it better nowÖ but, why is the shadow right there"
M: "because the sun is over there" (I point to the emptiness beyond the
print that is the sun)
K: "Oh and weíre not sposta see it, right!"
M: "Riiiiiiigggghhhhht"

So, Of course I bought it.

DESTRUCTIVE PART OBSCURED
WAKE TO FIND A
BLISTERED
EYE
FULL OF SUNLIGHT
PULLEYS OF SOUND
INFLATABLE LOVE
ON A PAINT
CHIPPED
MERRY GO ROUNDí
UP OR DOWN ORANGE PUSH-UP
DESCRIBE STARS
INFILTERED NIGHT
ABOUT TO DRAIN
ALL MY HOPE
INTO
A THIMBLE OF TIN
WRONG HIM
IN A SILENT HEAD

What if when I die, Iím driving around in a navy blue Impala, and I canít
find the road to the deadÖÖ..and I just drive around, through the landscape
of my afterlife, in a navy blue Impala.

Or

what if when I die, you have to become part of the last show you watched on
t.v., and you were just watching an old episode of Barney Miller because you
canít even believe how much you canít stand Barney Miller and that old crusty
chinese guy who you think would maybe stink like halitosis and have one of
those goobers on the inside corner of his eye with maybe an eyelash sticking
straight out of the goober. No offense to Old crusty chinese guys or
anything. I Mean, theyíre handy ní all.

That would definitely be worse than the navy blue Impala one, cuz with the
navy blue Impala.. you could just look around at all the stuff that you ever
dreamed, forever. But it would have to be a loopy road of some kind that you
would follow cuz youíd have to do it for eternity and you only have as many
dreams as how old you are when you die. And the navy blue Impala would
probably have to be alternatively powered, cuz I donít think they have oil or
gasoline in the afterlife. Or if they do, it must be really expensive cuz
theyíd have to be improtiní that shit SO FAR!
SHITCHESSSSSSSS!

Once you combed all your hair over your face and sat in the Lotus Position
and told me the story about that cave and your voice was all softÖ. Thick,
smooth and even.. like warm whiskey seeping into all the little fluvial
fissures of my brain. The only skin I saw was on your hands, the elegant
white against the dark day of your mood as far as blue or brown. Your hands
rested on your knees, like two perfect waves, floating.. or maybe they were
fish or birds.. I canít remember now. There was a name I gave you then,
something so secret and disturbed that I only uttered it after the sun had
gone.

Now your words come bubbling up to me like that little hot spring that used
to be at the park where we had our family reunionsÖ.they release from
beneath, as do the bubbles.. from some deep sunken pressure.
My steering wheel is pulsating and I watch some birds flying south in a
VÖ.except itís really an A without the bridge.
One from the back switches places with the one at the point to take the lead
and wrestle with the currents until he or she no longer can, and the cycle
continues until they start thawing..
and now I forget where Iím going.

SHITCHESSSSSS MAMMAGOTANEWCOAT!

In the year of our lord, 1997, it is the 11th day of the 3rd month. Shit the
bang wonder bread day fistacuff fuck a lot into the retched forest of some
kite fly in sweltering sky wattya say to a long goodbye frank and I baked a
mud pie and the stove started shittiní saxaphony ring balogna
Forgettin to let in
sombala bitch you took my twitch so I gonna fug you ub! BEEEEEYAAATCH!

What Is Never

This little story has a name, VIBRISSA gíhead look it up!
I smoked something that was very good and had this tremendous body buzz goin
on, right? So I think "hey, Iím gonna meditate" So I lie on my couch and
itís dark and I can just hear the one way conversation of the traffic on Lyon
St. and just the street light is filtering through my soil ridden windows,
making this warm sodium orange mural on my floor and everything was just
smooth like butter, right? I try visualizationÖ The first thought that comes
to my head is this little place in Cameron, Arizona.. it was like a little
Mecca in the middle of a MesaÖ(hey, I like that) so anyway, this one morning
I wake before sunrise and walk out of glass sliding doors to the lip of this
little canyon, the sky is just turning blue black and the wind is stirring
and itís kind of warm and cool at the same time and the wind smells like sage
and Pinon and itís so sweet & dusty & ancient and all you hear is the wind
picking up and these weird birds with long looping "wooís" and Iím watching
the sun impregnating the sky but whatís more brilliant is what is going on
behind me, how the sun is illuminating the canyon, how it creates shadows and
reflects and bounces and ignites! Itís like, carving this perfect jagged
sanguine world out of the shadow and Iím thinking of all of this and
remembering so clearly the smell and the feel of the wind on my skin and the
certain angle of the sun as it pushed night into itís own slumber and Iím not
aware of my body, Iím not aware of anything but this image Ö I become
conscious of my breathing.. deeply in for ten seconds, hold, release for
ten.. this is how I was taught to bring on a meditative state so I only count
in the beginning until my lungs rememberÖ but I start seeing my breathing as
a circle, like two snakes clamped on to each othersí tails and suddenly That
sense changes and my exhale is being pulled upward and my inhale isnít really
registering as anything but that exhale feels stronger each time like a big
ass magnet is sucking the core of me right through my throat and then I feel
my head tipping upward, just my head, I canít feel my body, itís gone.. and
Iím moving through this little vortex straight up that is pulling at my
breath and Iím moving fast, but I donít feel any pressure, just a buzzing, a
humming like waves of radio or Ölike a dolphin swimming up and down in a
vibrato.. and I feel a sort of squeezing and I think to myself "holy Christ,
this is it, Iím projecting or sumfuckinshit" and then I hear the refrigerator
click on and thatís it.
Sumfuckinshit, right?

Riiiigggghhhht!

So thatís it. My catís are staring at me, one to the right of me, one to the
left. They come and go at will. Something besides purpose propels them.
They look at the lamp and all they see is spikes of light
their gaze is indifferent but I know that all they want is music to spill out
of their eyes
or voice to shoot from their paws
I tell them that I want that too.

I went to a river today and walked along the bank where the water was running
fastest and watched the sunlight glitter
and listened as good as I could
the sound of my blood was biggest running inside itís own river
and I made a footprint face in the mud
sometimes when the sun presses on me I get squeezed into a dream or a memory
and the memory has a shape like a bowl
and in the bowl the air is made of dust and dried up bee parts
and it makes me cry
thinking of all the things that have happened to me and of all the arms I
tear myself from only to slide inside the warm circle of more arms
I havenít spoken a word since I woke
not even to myself
I only listen and occupy the space that surrounds me and try being inert
still silent I crawl into the underneath and fertilize my heart with the
goodest dirt there is
love
I am blessed
I have a soul kiss
I lay my smile on everything I see and am overwhelmed by the immensity of the
tree next to me
and the vaginal wound marking itís face
it smiles back
and I think of all the vaginaís Iíve been seeing in trees and consider itís
meaning and wonder if I should be painting it
I climb the tree with my eyes and love every elbow every branch that waits
quietly for the warm blood of chlorophyll
that special green heat
I find the finial leaf cuz thatís what Iíve always done since I was young and
staring out the window of an algebra classroom
every tree has that leaf and I like finding it looking at it marking it with
my vision because I think maybe Iím the only one to have noticed that
particular leaf
but somewhere thereís an alternate Earth world and my alternative self is
checking out the same leaf and then I get scared and try to do things to
outsmart her like kick my leg out really fast and then I think I canít and
that weíll always be doing the same thing and then I run screaming to my car
and get inside and lock it and try to think of a good time to start the
engine
I donít remember the ride home
my God maybe she possessed me and well that means that right now Iím her and
sheís me
blockdaljbl (I freak like I got a spider on me) ekble;aííbilea